


gonna drink that sun

by Sour_Idealist



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Carnival, Alternate Universe - Modern, Ficlet, Multi, Twitter Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29766408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sour_Idealist/pseuds/Sour_Idealist
Summary: When he's nineteen years old, Adrian Tepes worries his father and amuses his mother by taking a summer job with a traveling carnival.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	gonna drink that sun

**Author's Note:**

> One of a few Twitter prompts I'm collecting. Title from the Indigo Girls.

It's the kind of day so blisteringly hot that it spills over into the other senses: not just the stickiness of his skin but the buzz of the cicadas, the sharp smell of the asphalt, the gleam of light off the asphalt and the lake, all combine to scream of heat in Adrian's ear.

Some ancient ordinance in this town means the carnival has to close at 5pm on Sundays, so the sun is still sinking over the trees as Adrian makes his way down to the water. He checks his phone as he goes: His father says _'hope everything's going well, my boy! just remember you can come home whenever you need!_ ' Dated twenty-three minutes later, in the same group chat, his mother says, ' _Dear, stop fussing! Adrian, have fun, send us a postcard, don't talk to cops without a lawyer_.'

' _I have talked to no cops except to sell them ride tickets_ ,' Adrian sends back. The gravel of the lake shore crunches under his feet; he kicks off his shoes, his socks, and leaves his phone next to them. Rolls up his jeans. The water laps at him in gentle welcome as he wades out to the rock.

"Hey there, rich boy," Trevor calls as Adrian scrambles up over the granite. Sypha, next to him, raises a hand in languid welcome. "Slumming it again?"

"How kind of you to point out that you're the only slum in the carnival, Belmont," Adrian says, dropping to a seat. Trevor kicks water in his direction; he doesn't bother to dodge. (Though his father divides all trousers into dress pants, pajama pants, and jeans, jeans are not actually what Adrian is wearing. They are, instead, quick-drying hiking pants. He learned this lesson early, from Trevor, with translation by Sypha: no one has time for jeans to dry.)

"Yes, do spray water on me, you've found my one weakness," he says. "Water on a hot day. I shall shrivel."

"Ah, fuck off."

"He just got here," Sypha says, lying flat against the rock. She's in a bikini top and Daisy Dukes; Adrian has, as always, a brief internal war about whether he should avert his eyes. The sun gleams off of her skin, dusting freckles along the arch of her breast, just as it gleams on the hair of Trevor's bare chest. They look like summer itself, the pair of them.

"Are you drunk on duty again?" Adrian asks, as an excuse for his staring.

"No," Trevor says, "because I'm not on duty, therefore I can't be drunk on it. Quod erat.... dungenstrom."

"You are a poet and a rhetorician," Adrian drawls. "Are you drunk soon enough after the carnival closes that you had to have started drinking on duty?"

"No," Trevor says, "because a child puked on most of the tilt-a-whirl and it was shut down for cleaning until about four-thirty, and I made an executive decision to knock off early. For a well-deserved drink."

"Ah, to be sleeping with the boss's granddaughter," Adrian says dryly.

"That wouldn't save him if he weren't right," Sypha says, unbothered by this (which is good, as otherwise Adrian's mother would teleport across four states to slap him upside the head). "Also, he doesn't drink when he's on ride duty."

"Fine, rat me out," Trevor grouses.

"Yes, rat you out as a man of responsible moral standards, how diabolical of her," Adrian says, which is perilously close to a compliment. "Do we all get away with drunkenly miscounting tickets," he hastens to add, "or is that just because her grandfather likes you?"

"I don't know," Trevor says. "You could try sleeping with the boss's daughter and find out."

Adrian's entire body blushes a horrified lobster red. "I beg your --"

"You could," Sypha adds seriously, and Adrian falls into the lake.


End file.
